


Girl's Night Out

by snapfreeze



Category: Agents of Mayhem (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Just gals being pals, Minor Angst, Minor Game Spoilers, Never Have I Ever, Shenanigans, Women Supporting Women, brief mentions of other agents, everyone's on the LGBT spectrum and you can pry that from my cold dead hands, excessive consumption of alcohol, hangovers, no goal just women hanging out and being fantastic, nsfw content within, this game will get gay fandom content or so help me god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapfreeze/pseuds/snapfreeze
Summary: With LEGION largely defeated in Seoul, the girls finally organise one of their legendary nights out. The paperwork Carol from HR will have to deal with afterwards surely will be migraine inducing.





	Girl's Night Out

With the LEGION threat tolerable and the rips in the space/time continuum stitched up, Joule had declared that it was time for a girls night out. To celebrate, to get drunk, and share the female camaraderie around.

And for the first time, Friday had been purposefully invited. In fact, every viable agent that applied got invited. Bar Carol from HR, because that was career suicide. Daisy had the guts to invite Persephone, the only person who had the guts to do so, and she only got sent to Carol after a swift and sharp _no_. Not as severe a punishment as she was expecting, if she were honest. Lazarus, well, Lazarus would've gladly came if she wasn't too busy defragging and updating her systems. Gremlin politely declined, and stated that she'd rather have a night in attempting to flirt with Hardtack.

Daisy had also rightfully insisted that it was a casual do only – no (visible) weapons, no uniforms, no bullshit.

It was going to be a spectacular night out that only the abstainers would remember.

**Drunk level: Four beers.**

Unsurprisingly, they had managed to get one of the larger tables at the hole-in-the-wall bar that Fortune had found by accident one time. (Ignoring the fact that she found it by being punted through the wall by a very angry tanktrooper.)

The bar was interesting in its décor: it wasn't dingy, but it was dark and still had more neon lights than a gay bar during pride in happy hour. That, and they served a mix of western alcohol and eastern alcohol, which was incredibly rare to find even in Seoul.

When they had strolled in, loud and happy and their presence so dominating, they had turned heads. Some recognised them as agents and kept their distance, the rest went back to their own business. The group didn't blame them, they only had their pre-drinks on the ARK and they were already rowdy.

Upon slamming her beer down on the largest table, the small group already sitting there cleared out of the way fast, fearing the very large American and her Chicago accent. “Alright ladies, the one unspoken rule of girl's night is that there is no drink off limits. The more awful it looks, the more you have to do it.”

“We're here to relax and forget the stress,” Joule supplied, taking a seat at Daisy's right. “The fact that we're messy drunks is entirely irrelevant.”

The group then split off into amicable chatter. Events on the ARK, venting about work, talking about their personal life. It was a calm start to the evening, and even Scheherazade was telling one of her tales that the women listened to with rapt attention.

Then, came the inevitable.

“Oh my god, we should play never have I ever.” Fortune said, eyes wide and grin wider.

Joule nodded in agreement and pointed out “Daisy needs a handicap, let her have both hands.”

“No regrets.” The smile and shrug Daisy gave the rest of the table really told them that she didn't mind the handicap at all. “But I'm starting though.”

Everyone agreed, and each raised a hand. Turning in her chair, Daisy stared right down at Joule, her lips turning up in the most evil grin she could manage. Joule audibly swallowed.

“Never have I ever used my combat equipment as a sex toy.”

“Honestly, I sit on my turret _once_ ,” Joule muttered, putting her thumb down. “My turn though, never have I ever slept with a clown.”

Daisy guffawed, and put one of her fingers down.

Then Friday frowned and the entire table gasped.

“If you have to think about it babe, then it's a yes. Also, _spill_.”

The flush went right up to Friday's ears, and then, in a rush, she spilled it all to get it over with. “ShewasaHarleyQuinncosplayerokay!”

Braddock raised her eyebrows, and shrugged.

Scheherazade was next, all of her fingers still standing. “Never have I ever told a lie.”

Everyone was confounded, Fortune especially, who was gesturing towards Scheherazade in an attempt to wrap her head around what she said. “What the fuck?”

All Scheherazade did was chortle.

**Drunk level: Six beers, a bottle of wine.**

“Is anyone here actually, you know, straight?” Daisy asked while healthily pouring herself another large glass of wine. “Because like, it'd be fucking amazing if we're all gay as fuck.”

“Y'all know I'm as gay as a handbag full of rainbow grenades.” Braddock replied, smirking through the neck of her beer bottle. “And I'm dating the cutest lady on the ship, no offense to y'all.”

This made Friday's face light up a beautiful shade of red, which caused several to laugh and a declaration of _GAAAAAAY_ from Daisy. “I do consider myself a lesbian, yes.” Friday eventually managed to get out, reaching over for the wine because she's definitely going to need more if the current level of embarrassment is the least she's going to face for the rest of the night.

Joule was the next to speak up, taking a sip from her wine nonchalantly. “I am bisexual, and wonderfully transgender. Someone's got to be the-- what's the word in English? Highest femme?”

“Does that mean I'm stone butch?” Braddock asked.

“Oh hell _yes_ you are,” Fortune answered before Daisy could get a word in sideways. “I'm bisexual, pansexual, whatever you want to call it. It's not like pirates have a history of being straight. If they consent, I'm down.”

Daisy raised her bottle, shoving it towards Fortune's direction. “I'll drink to that.” Fortune grinned, both women taking incredibly large gulps out of their bottles.

“What about you, Scheherazade?” Braddock asked, turning bodily towards her. “You've been mostly quiet so far. Got a particular team you like to bat for?”

“Yes.” Scheherazade simply responded, taking sip out of her tea through her straw. Which she had somehow managed to feed behind her face mask. How the fuck did she get tea when they're in a fucking bar?

The table fell silent, waiting for a follow up. A few seconds passed.

“Which team...?”

Scheherazade's eyes twinkled in amusement. “ _Yes._ ”

Daisy guffawed into her drink, while Friday simply put her head into her hands.

“That just leaves you, Rama. You one of us, or the token ally for the night?” Everyone turned to face Rama, their eyes various degrees of interested. Everyone knew Rama was mostly work and barely any play outside of table tennis, so when she had agreed to participate in tonight's revelry, many people were surprised.

“I...” Rama's face fell as she began to fiddle with the ring on her finger. “I had a wife. She... the plague got her in the initial outbreak. There is not a single day that goes by where I don't miss her, and that's why I'm so driven to find the cure and rid Earth of the LEGION scourge.” Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she tried to swipe them away. “Sorry, that is very unprofessional of me. I had never mentioned it out loud before.”

When she looked up, the table was in varying stages of shock and sympathy. Joule and Friday in particular had tears in their eyes as well. In a flash, Rama was overwhelmed by hugs, which ended in Daisy bearhugging the lot of them and lifting them all of their feet.

“We'll make LEGION pay, Rama.”

“We're here for you.”

“If you're ever lonely, just come to us.”

“Yeah, we'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The support and response that came from the women – her _friends_ – made Rama's heart swell, and she wiped her eyes once again. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you. I could not ask for better friends.”

“Never stronger are the bonds forged in war.” Braddock stated. “You're our sister now, in this--”

“Incredibly gay friendship group. Like, do we form the entire LGBT acronym?” Daisy interrupted, flagging down the bartender as she got up. “Because that's awesome, and we need more drinks.”

**Drunk level: Reverse Jaegerbombs. No explanation necessary.**

They only got chucked out of the bar after a Braddock vs Daisy arm wrestle ended up in smashed glasses and a table snapped in half which frankly wasn't their fault – they should've made the tables stronger for arm wrestling. It's not their fault that they're so strong.

So, there they were, stumbling down the streets while being dutifully corrected by an incredibly amused Scheherazade. She could let them walk into traffic, but the damage to the cars and the surrounding area would be more severe than the damage to the actual agent.

Korean nightlife was something else: pop music blared from nightclubs (thankfully free of Gaunt since his reputation and everything else got tarnished, and rightfully so), delicious street food made the air smell delicious and not of construction work or LEGION's unwashed suits. The scripture itself was beautiful, and was a far cry to what the agents were actually used to. While it was not their homeland, it certainly felt like home, especially with friends by their side.

“You know what?” Fortune started, turning on her heel to face the crowd behind her and nearly overextending herself, “I'm glad I met you guys. You're far more bearable than Hollywood.”

“He does have a tendency to... rub everyone the wrong way.” Friday scrunched her nose up, remembering all the times she had to deal with one of Hollywood's muck ups that he refused to take responsibility for.

Daisy looked side to side in an attempt to be inconspicuous. “He does rub me the right way though.”

The responses were varied but all were loud: Fortune laughed, Rama scoffed, Braddock and Friday were disgusted. Joule was even mock offended.

“Daisy, just... love yourself.”

“Oh, I do, on the regular.” Laughing at her own joke and not paying attention to where she was walking, she stumbled over a crack in the pavement and smashed face first into the snout of a pig mascot for a fast food chain.

“Gals. I want a deep dish pizza.”

**Drunk level: Whatever the fuck a “Belgian clit-twister” is.**

Somehow, they managed to climb all the way to the top of the TTX tower with only using one (1) elevator. Granted, Friday spent most of it hauled over her girlfriend's shoulder, but she wasn't going to start complaining any time soon.

What made the situation far more perplexing was that they were currently surrounded by LEGION, and barely any weapons to speak of. Braddock had her large serrated knife, Scheherazade had her children and Fortune had somehow – _somehow –_ managed to hide her pistols in her tight fitting outfit. The rest of them, however, were bare fisted.

And Scheherazade was the only one truly and utterly sober.

“Oh _fuck_ yeah, I've always wanted to do a fight club this high up! The reward better not be a shitty fucking trophy.” Daisy shouted while attempting to rollerskate without her skates. It really was pathetic sliding, but hey, at least she wasn't swaying side to side like Joule was.

Speaking of.

“You.” Joule pointed at the nearest helltrooper, who looked behind him. “Your outfit. It is disgusting and you should feel bad for even considering to go out dressed like a cyberpunk hot topic from dystopic Canada and I am getting some form of disease looking at it. Vile. _Repugnant_. Go home.”

“Skull command--”

“Skull command? Seriously? What the fuck is this, my first evil military hierarchy?” Braddock laughed at her own joke while squaring herself up. Friday, in a rather smart move, moved behind her large and imposing girlfriend. She wasn't a fighter, she was a tactician, and if it wasn't for the copious amounts of alcohol in her bloodstream right about now she would be quaking in her boots.

“Skull command we have cornered Agents Braddock, Daisy, Joule, Fortune, Scheherazade, Rama and Friday. Preparing to execute the MAYHEM scum, please stand by.”

Surprisingly the first punch did not come from Braddock, or Daisy, or Fortune. It came from Rama, who came out of left field with a punch so strong that it upended the helltrooper she hit. She was strong, no doubt about that – hard light may come and go, but the weight she pulls and puts behind her arrows trained and honed her muscles.

“That was for my wife!” She slurred out. Apparently, Rama was an emotional drunk.

Then all hell broke loose. With a yell of “for Rama's wife!” mixed with Daisy's _FUCK YEAH OLD SCHOOL FIGHT CLUB,_ they launched themselves into battle. They didn't care that they had brought fists to a gunfight, they were (mostly) drunk, and all had a new vendetta and didn't give a single flying French fuck about the collateral damage.

And it was glorious.

**Drunk level: [CENSORED]**

Somehow, they had managed to make it back to the ship in one piece. Thanks to Scheherazade, who is oddly skilled in shepherding drunks back home. Though, as soon as they all stepped foot on MAYHEM territory, the drunks scattered like the wind, like a bag of inebriated cats trying to find the source of catnip.

Shrugging, Scheherazade considered them home and in... somewhat safe hands, so she went to the mess hall, grabbed a pot of tea, and moved to Relic's shop. Nothing like a bit of relaxation before the storm. That, and Persephone knew where she was for the time being, which should mean something.

**Hangover level: Unquantifiable.**

Braddock had made one mistake. It was not the silly amount of alcohol consumption, or buying a poor replica of a traditional American meal, or agreeing to go on the girl's night out in the first place.

No, it was forgetting to turn off her 6am alarm.

When it had rung out, Braddock instantly smashed it and grabbed her head. She felt _horrid_ , her ribs felt like a kilo of dynamite had exploded in them, and she was sporting new cuts and bruises that she certainly didn't have 24 hours ago.

Rolling over, she was greeted with Friday's nude form. She would've taken the time to appreciate it and all the hickies she had left if it wasn't for the marching drum going off inside her skull. Reaching across, she laid her arm across Friday's stomach and buried her face in the back of her neck in hopes of some reprieve.

“Janel, I love you, but if you squeeze any tighter, I'm going to vomit everywhere. Please move.”

She felt the exact same. But she was going to hold it together, she didn't want to look like a rookie on their first marine patrol. She removed her arm from Friday's midsection, and watched her blurry nude form quickly run into the bathroom.

**Hangover level: Legendary.**

Vomiting. That's what she could hear.

She thought it was a dream, until Daisy woke up. Well, tried to, she had to remove a hefty amount of crust from her eyes before she actually could. When she did open them, however, she was greeted with one hell of a sight.

Joule, naked, on top of her, was one thing. The other thing was the mountain of empty glass bottles, the horde of deer plushies with their price tags still on, and the used dildo with the condom still on. Then came the rolling sickness, causing her to roll over and vomit off the edge of the bed directly into a conveniently placed bucket.

Being suddenly thrown aside woke Joule up, the speed of which the room was spinning made her bury her face directly into the leopard print pillows. Joule could feel the black eye throbbing on her face, and she didn't even want to start recollecting what she did last night. The headache already was murderous.

“Daisy?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Please vomit somewhere else.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

**Hangover level: Critical.**

Stumbling was the best way to describe her walking style today. Not graceful, or put-together, but stumbling. Between the emotional weight being lifted off her shoulders and the hangover putting the weight back on, Rama felt like she had gone through the ringer.

But she knew better than to mope in bed all day. She had wounds to wrap up (when did she cut open her knuckles to the point of breaking the skin nearly bare?), water to consume and painkillers to swallow. After that back to work... and maybe a bit of one to one time with her friends.

Upon stumbling into the mess hall, she found Fortune face down asleep on the table, with three empty bottles of water in front of her. Quietly, Rama placed a fresh bottle in front of her, and balanced a pack of ibuprofen on top of it.

For the first time since joining MAYHEM, Rama felt a certain sense of camaraderie with some of her fellow agents. Like she wasn't alone in the world, and not taking on the plague on her own. And for that, she'd happily take a thousand hangovers.

**Hangover level: Severe.**

Fortune was thanking her past self for being at least semi-aware to drink a chunk of water last night. Fortune was _not_ thanking her past self for passing out on the mess hall table though. At a later date, she'd probably find it funny, but between the red mark on her forehead, the ache in her limbs, and the agents trying to very quietly move around her (they were doing an awful job at it), she felt like the rear end of a cannon after being put through a volcano.

Some kind soul had left her a fresh bottle and some painkillers and whoever they were, Fortune loved them. She downed more than enough of those little white lifesavers and looking across the mess hall after the fact saw Rama giving her a small smile.

Fortune, in turn, raised her bottle in thanks, before holding her head and groaning. It was going to be a long day for her.

**Hangover level: Moderate.**

“How are we all doing, ladies?” Hardtack asked, a shit-eating grin plastered over his features. “All nursing a good hangover?”

Everyone at the mess table groaned simultaneously bar Scheherazade, who simply continued to stir her tea.

“How bad is it?”

“Have you seen the state of the top of the TTX?”

Gat poked his head in to the conversation. “That was _you?_ That's fucking killer.”

“Please don't remind me.” Joule said, pressing her head on the cool table. “Carol is going to lecture us for days.”

**Hangover level: Bearable.**

“Agents,” came Friday's very tired voice from the ship-wide intercom. “Carol from HR has introduced a 'drinking while you're an Agent' seminar that is mandatory to attend, and a dark matter fracking station has appeared in downtown. Will Agents Hardtack, Oni and Lazarus please report to the squad bay.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Oh, and the person that managed to park one of Quartermile's agent vehicles directly into the launching bay which is _completely inaccessible by car_ , needs to go to Persephone's office immediately. I'm not naming names, but Daisy, move fast.”

A loud cuss was heard from the relaxation area as Daisy scarpered away, fearing another run in with Persephone so soon.

Girl's nights out were always the best possible mistakes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I will provide the gay ass content this game/fandom DESERVES even if I have to do it by my damn self
> 
> this game is absolutely fantastic and I love many of its characters and hopefully this won't be the last fic I'll do for this particular fandom
> 
> don't mix drinks kids, remember to drink water and have something to eat beforehand, and if you wanna stop, stop, don't let anybody pressure you into drinking more - love, your local gay bartender


End file.
